


You and Me

by entanglednow



Category: Primeval
Genre: Bodyswap, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-05
Updated: 2010-03-05
Packaged: 2017-10-14 16:48:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/151382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last thing Abby remembers is looking up to see fangs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You and Me

  
The last thing Abby remembers is looking up to see fangs.

She remembers seeing the great black curve of them above her, running wet and raised in pre-strike threat. She doesn’t remember being hit, she doesn’t remember being in pain she just remembers _them_. She knows one thing though, Connor was here with her.

She moves, tries to move. One of her arms is bent back behind her and it warns her, painfully, that trying to drag it out that way will end up doing more harm than good. She turns her head instead and gets a face full of tacky web.

Not good.

She knows they're facing some sort of giant arachnid. Though, judging by the way it had shown itself to have the ability to lure its prey in almost telepathically, to render it immobile and pliant, it seemed sensible to bet the creature came from the future. Judging by its size some far off future.

She twists, pushes out with a foot. She can't see a thing, can't hear anything either but she thinks, after a few hard presses, that she's made a space. She bends her leg at the knee, twists and pushes, twists and pushes until she can feel the web loosening around her.

It's still quiet and she tells herself to keep it together. By the feel of it she's in some sort of cocoon and not an actual web so the chance of the spider feeling her vibrations are fairly slim. Though that doesn't stop a niggling voice at the back of her head from telling her to hurry.

She's made enough space to slip down and she turns her head again -

There's hair in her face.

Abby freezes for a second in utter confusion. Because she hasn't had hair long enough to hang in her eyes for _years_. It has to be a bit of the web, some of the material - she twists her head away but it's still there.

She has a brief dizzying thought. _How long exactly have I been here?_ Which is ridiculous because if she'd been here long enough for her hair to grow then she'd been there long enough to starve to death.

But it doesn’t matter, she has to find Connor.

She pushes again, slithers down, lets her arms pull up, lets her own body weight drag her down, ready to hang on, to hang on as she slips free. To see how far it is to the floor. But the whole cocoon disintegrates and she's left grasping nothing, falling, and then crashing into the dirt floor half a second later in a huff of surprise and pain.

She shoves herself upright and realises something that steals all the air out of her. Her body is wrong. She's too long, too straight, too wrong. There's hair in her face and her mouth feels strange and her hands - she's wearing gloves. She's wearing fingerless gloves. The same ones she's mocked a dozen times. They're on her hands, on her too-large hands pressed to the dirt. Pieced together with everything else. With the strange crushed and tender weight between her legs that eases when she shifts her thighs open.

She shakes her head.

"No." Because that's not possible. It's not even a joke of a possibility.

Her hair brushes her cheeks, trails across her nose and in her eyes.

She's not her, she's...she's Connor.

She stands up, ignores the twinge in her knee and walks, awkwardly - no wonder boys take longer to learn to walk than girls - to the wall, where the other cocoons are. Some are full of what look like desiccated cat-like creatures, some with dead-eyed but clearly still alive ones. She keeps searching, keeps pulling them open just enough to see inside -

Until she finds her own face - she stops breathing for a second. Because it's wrong. It's horrible and so wrong that she thinks maybe there's a scream somewhere in her throat that wants to come loose. And then she's pulling, frantically, violently at the material, pulling until she can see her own jacket and her baggy red jeans. Then she catches herself under the arms and pulls her body free.

She slithers to the floor like a dead weight.

"Connor." Abby shakes her body, shakes it hard. Hoping like hell that he's in there. Because if he's not he's in one of these animals, or one of the dead things, and that's unacceptable.

He - she groans, forehead creasing, and watching it is horrible and fascinating.

"Abby," he says, and it's absolutely him, even in her voice there's that lilt he always gives her name.

Abby watches her own eyes open, watches her own mouth drop open in shock.

She doesn’t give him a chance. She pulls him up, pulls her _own body_ up, surprised at how light she feels.

"Abby," he's saying frantically, over and over, like a child who doesn't understand. The soft breathless half panic of her own voice. Her own widened eyes.

"Quiet, Connor," she says simply and her voice is wrong. Her voice is his and it's completely wrong.

"Abby, he says again, quieter but desperate. Threatening to drift into hysterics.

"They can fix it later," she says fiercely. Praying that they can but wondering how on earth you'd even start, how you could ever hope to fix something like this.

All she can do is push and pull and force him in the direction of the anomaly, legs shaking under her. All she can do is get them both home.  



End file.
